A good man remembered

The Boston Herald

Beverly Beckham

The present tense dominates the conversation:

"Brian's the most organized, disorganized person I know."

"He's my best friend."

"He's the kind of guy who, when there's an event coming, you hope he's there."

"He bought me a corsage. He called me up and asked what color my dress was. That's how he is."

They have come to talk about Brian Cody. They crowd around a conference table at Saint Patrick's rectory in Stoneham on a hot Sunday night. Some talk about Brian as a friend, teacher, brother, son. All talk about Brian as a man they love.

They conjure him with their tales. They make him come alive for this stranger in their midst who has only their words and their memories to piece him together. A part of him lives within each of them, they say. Physically he isn't here; but spiritually he always will be.

Brian Cody died two weeks ago at the age of 39. His death is fresh, his absence new. But it isn't about death that his family and friends speak. It's about joy and courage and faith and friendship. It's about Brian's example.

Everyone has a story, but the theme is the same: Brian was always there for you. He made time for you. "Right up until the day before he died he was calling me and asking me about my life," says one friend.

"I was having a hard time with a family situation and he wrote me a note and it meant so much," says another.

Mark Manna shared an apartment with Brian when they were in their 20's. Years later when Mark was married with a young child and sharing his home with a father who had cancer and a father-in-law with Alzheimers, Mark says his "group of friends changed."

Except for Brian. "He went out of his way for you. He'd come over and listen to my father-in-law tell the same story again and again. He wouldn't say to me 'Let's go out.' He'd say, 'You take your wife out. I'll take care of things here.' That's Brian."

Sarou Ou calls Brian his brother. He says the two most important people in his life are the Cambodian who brought him back to life years ago when he had malaria and Brian "who brought me to life here."

Brian tutored Sarou in English three times a week for nine months. Ten years later Sarou and his wife and children are part of Brian's family.

Eighteen months ago when he was diagnosed with Lou Gehrig's disease, which causes the muscles to die, Brian attacked it the way he attacked everything, with energy and faith and perseverance.

"He never showed any self pity. He was so positive, it wasn't painful to go through it with him."

"The only thing I know Brian agonized about was how his family would suffer."

He and his family organized, networked, sought out the newest therapies, flew to Germany, raised money for medical treatment, and prayed.

The disease left him weak, unsteady, slurred his speech, slowed him down. Still he continued to teach, to reach out to people and to thank God for all he had.

People say there aren't any heroes anymore. There are. Brian Cody was one. When someone 39 years old dies, the lament is usually, what a waste. But not here, not now. Brian lived life to the fullest. He worked hard. He played hard. He was a good son, a good brother, a good friend and a good man. "His mother and I were always after him to slow down," his father says. "Good thing he didn't. We're so grateful for all his friends. They are a comfort to us."

As he was and will always be a comfort to them.